Where Is My Angel?
by Maya Beebop
Summary: The Society's been protecting a girl for ages.  But a rogue occult group knows why, and it's a race against time to find her before the cult can exact a terrible ritual that could release the harbinger of the biblical Rapture.
1. Jersey Magic

The air blowing in from the open window rushed through the car, swirling in the back seat and coming forward again in quick spurts. The radio played 90's rock in the background, fighting the white noise of the steadily passing highway.

A pair of headlights materialized out of the gloom and the driver squinted for a moment, getting used to the sudden illumination. The car passed, and the road was dark again.

Black-lacquered nails reached for the volume control on the radio, cranking it up to near-deafening levels. Rhythmic tapping on the steering wheel ensued for a minute or two before ceasing in exchange for a loud, exasperated sigh.

"All the way across the bleeding country to play babysitter to some little 'magical fluke' of Rupert's, and I'm not even being paid in advance. A man's got to have his supply of smokes, for God's sake."

Spike reached up and smoothed out his wind-rumpled hair, then placed his last cigarette in his mouth and lit up.

"I mean, how much magic can happen in Jersey?"

………………………

"Tonight was really great…"

The girl shifted uneasily in her seat at the words. _Oh God, here it comes, and I don't even like him like that!_

"You know how it could be even better?" the smooth, masculine voice asked.

She played with a fold in her silky, silver dress and cough slightly. They weren't even near civilization enough for her to get out and walk away without drawing too much attention. He had parked at the scenic overlook of the river off the highway after they drove home from the dance. Friendly-looking lights out here were few and far apart and those she could see danced on the slowly drifting water fifty feet down off the drop-off. Sounds of the highway were drowned out by the undertone of suggestive rap playing softly in the background.

Her eyes darted around, analyzing the situation. A few other cars were parked nearby, but their windows were steadily fogging up with the action of the occupants. No help there, and the last phone she had seen was almost two miles up the road at a shady-looking place they had stopped at for gas.

"Um, no?" she ventured, trying to avoid the almost inevitable. "Actually, I had planned on starting that chemistry project tonight, and-…"

"Shhh…" The boy edged closer and placed a finger over her lips, silencing her protests. He began to slowly pull her left shoulder strap over her arm.

"Hey!" she started.

"You're a big girl now, Brynn. Mommy and Daddy aren't out here; you can have a little fun."

"Yeah, but I don't want-…"

"Look, do you want to have a good time tonight or not?" he demanded, reaching stealthily behind him and locking the doors.

Brynn jumped at the automatic sound and narrowed her eyes. "Open the doors, Brad."

"Why? You're gorgeous, babes. You deserve to have a gorgeous guy."

"Don't call me that," she spat, glowering. "Now let me out, or I'll start screaming."

"Scream away, babes. There's nowhere for you to go, and I like my girls to fight a little bit," he grinned maliciously.

He was moving towards her and she threw out her hand to smack him when the entire passenger-side door was torn off its hinges with a deafening wrenching sound. Brynn whipped her head around and let out a quick, high-pitched screech in chorus with Brad's yells of petrified shock.

The glass and metal dust fell away to reveal a tall, blonde man in a leather jacket, holding the twisted car door in his left hand. He tossed it away casually and stepped forward.

"Come on, you," he said, grabbing Brynn's hand and pulling her out of the wrecked car. Speechless, her foot caught on the broken edge of the car's frame and she stumbled. Luckily she managed to hold her balance with something, and her heart dropped when she realized it was his arm holding her up, steadying her.

She released her grip instantly and looked up at the peroxide-treated, slicked hair and the pale face of her would-be savior. His gaze lingered on her a moment, as if trying to make sure she was real. Then, after what seemed like hours when it really had only been a few seconds, he turned back to Brad.

"The next time a lady says 'lay off', I'd suggest you keep your hands to yourself."

Brad remained tacit as the blonde man escorted the trembling Brynn to a sleek, black car that was parked at the end of the row of cars. Steamy, half-dressed teenagers poked their heads out of windows and sunroofs like so many prairie dogs, eager to see what all the commotion was about.

………………………

Spike ignored the onlookers and opened the passenger door of his car for the girl, who collapsed on the leather seat, exhausted.

"Wow, thank you so much for that. Brad's such a jerk. I don't know why I went to Homecoming with him. And with my parents at a party all night, I didn't know who I was gonna call to get out of that one."

"Think nothing of it," he returned, closing her door to go around and slide into the driver's seat. "You might actually come to regret that I saved you from that 'jerk'."

"I doubt that," she laughed as they pulled out of the overlook and back onto the highway.


	2. Sympathy for the Devil

Soon it became clear that he wasn't heading towards the residential area. Brynn began to get nervous when he sped past two exits that she pointed out as hers. Then she finally got the courage up to ask him.

"Um, where are we going?" she asked waveringly.

"The airport," the man replied. "Got to make the 11:00 flight."

"Then can you let me out? I kind of have to go home," she said.

"No, you kind of have to come with me. We're going to Sunnydale, California, because some buggered librarian is spouting off a load of rubbish that you're some kind of magical fluke," he returned, not too happy-sounding. "So instead of sending someone that is more _suited_ towards this kind of mission, he sent _me_. Damned if I know why."

Brynn froze. "OK, buddy, I don't know what you've been smoking, but I'm really starting to wish I was back in the car with Brad."

"Called _that_ one five minutes ago."

"Stop the car."

He drove on in stony silence.

"I said _stop_ the _car_!" she demanded, reaching over towards the gearshift.

"Sod off!" he snarled, inadvertently changing to vamp form, his brow contorting into its monstrous façade and his fangs elongating to stick out enough for her to gasp and fall back in fright.

"W-what are you?" she whispered, severely shaken.

"Evil," he chuckled, looking back to the road. "The Big Bad. So play nice, piggy, and maybe you'll see dawn."

………………………

The car was silent for a few moments before Spike changed back to his more humanistic form and turned on the radio to a different rock station. The girl had already passed out from her shock, so he shrugged it off and began to sing along to the tunes.

"_Just as every cop is a criminal, and all the sinners saints, as heads is tails just call me Lucifer, 'cause I'm in need of some restraint_…" he crooned in synchrony to Gunz and Roses' version of "Sympathy for the Devil". Eyeing the teenager's unconscious figure in the next seat, he decided to risk it and go all out for the chorus.

"_Pleased to meet you, hope you guess my name! But what's puzzling you is the nature of my game_…"

The music blasted on as he began to look for the exit to the airport. As he turned off the main drag, he glanced at the clock. It read 10:15. They had plenty of time.


	3. Terminal Discovery

"Hey…hey, come on. Wake up!"

Spike nudged her shoulder and she sprang to life. Her arm shot up impulsively, slipping the tip of his nose.

"Ow! Bloody hell!" he cursed, rubbing his injured face.

"Sorry! I didn't mean to-…oh. It's _you_. Um…" she faded away.

"Don't worry about it. Let's go." He grabbed her wrist and pulled her up.

"No! I'm not gonna be kidnapped, damn it! Help! Somebody help me!" she began to screech across the parking lot. "Help! He's-…"

He was about to silence her physically when Spike heard a strange click-like sound come from her head. Her voice instantly stopped and her eyes slowly closed.

He could see she was going to fall. Leaning forward, he caught her just as her legs gave out.

She slumped in his grip and he stood still for a moment, wondering what exactly happened and how he was going to get to the terminal, 200 yards away, with a hundred pounds of dead weight in his arms.

Twin lights shining on the ground interrupted his train of thought, and he looked up with relief at the shuttle bus that ran the lengths of the endless perking lots.

It screamed to a halt next to them and the doors swung open with a lethal-sounding snap, revealing a warm, dimly lit interior with a rather pudgy driver who raised his eyebrow at the girl's limp body in Spike's hands.

"Uh, poor thing's a narcoleptic. Just conks out every now and again," he explained quickly. Easing her body up the stairs, he propped it up in a corner chair. "Ups-a-daisy," he muttered as she slid down a bit and he had to lift her up to keep her form falling on the dirty floor. The strap of her silver dress fell down, and his gingerly replaced it with a quick flick of the wrist and a slight blush.

The shuttle pulled away and the lighting flickered, then went out. As they turned a corner, the girl's head fell over and rested against Spike's jacketed shoulder. He considered tilting it back up again, but realized that would look suspicious to the other shuttle goers. They might think the two weren't there together, and after the whole "narcolepsy" thing and his fixing her dress, he couldn't afford them suspecting him of being a rapist or anything sick like that.

_Calm down Spike old boy. It's all for the cause, and if you bring her back with bruises, it'll be worse than not bringing her back at all…_

………………………

As the shuttle creaked to a halt in front of the airport entrance, Brynn's eyes fluttered open, and she brought her head up, he warm cheek sticking for a moment to the man's leather jacket.

He bent down quickly and whispered in her ear.

"Listen, you're getting on that plane one way or another. If you cooperate, no one will get hurt. I'm not going to hurt _you_, but there's plenty of people around I'd take out just to get you to California.

"Now, are you gonna do this the easy way or are you gonna do this the hard, painful way?"

Brynn looked around. No one would believe her if she claimed he was some kind of monster.

She sighed hopelessly and stood up when he did. They exited the shuttle and made it through security, and they had almost reached their gate when a voice called through the crowd.

"Brynn! Brynn Marner!"

She turned around, the man halting in his tracks to catch her arm lest she run.

A heavyset woman appeared out of the masses and gave Brynn a hug.

"Hi, Mrs. Levanstein," Brynn responded blankly.

"Well, aren't you the cutest little thing in your little dancing dress? What are you doing here? I thought you were at the dance with my son!"

The man gave a little smirk and chuckle and Brynn elbowed him in the gut to get him to stop. He winced and growled a bit, low enough so that the older woman didn't hear it but it was just audible enough to spook Brynn into what a few years of acting lessons had taught her.

"Oh, Brad? Um…he took me home already."

"I see. So what are you doing here?"

Brynn hesitated, and the man cleared his throat to urge her to say something.

"This is…Brian. He's my cousin. We're…meeting my grandparents here. They're arriving from…" She looked around at nearby gates and came up with a few likely names of cities. "Las Vegas! They're coming home from vacation," she finished, breathing quickly.

"Well ain't that just the cutest thing? Well, say hello to them for me. Nice meeting you, Brian!" she said to the man.

He nodded with a curt smile to her departing back and pulled Brynn towards the gate.

"Nice cover," he said, smugly.

"Go to hell," she replied.


	4. A Hundred Years of Uneasiness

They reached the gate and the employee asked for their tickets. _Thank God!_ She thought. _We don't have any tickets! I'm going home, I'm going home, I'm-…_

But her happy thoughts were interrupted by the man pulling an envelope from his jacket pocket and handing it to the employee, who opened it, looked at the two tickets, and smiled.

"Tickets validated. Have a nice flight!" they commanded as the blonde ushered Brynn onto the gateway.

They got in and matched their tickets up with a pair of first-class seats. They stood still, almost unbelieving, when the man finally made her go in first.

"You can have the window seat," he commented as she slid into the plush chair with an air of disgust.

The usual overture of "fasten your seatbelts, we'll be cruising at thirty thousand feet, have an enjoyable flight" crackled over the intercom, and the plane took off. When they were finally level in the air, Brynn looked over that the man's hands, which were clenched tight on the armrest. His knuckles were bone-white and his mouth was clenched tightly.

"Afraid of flying?" she asked snidely. He looked over and sighed with an exasperated grin.

"Couple hundred years and you'd think I'd get used to stuff like this. I need something to drink."

He motioned for the stewardess, who brought him some beer in a plastic cocktail cup. He downed it instantly and leaned back in his seat. Then he laughed.

"Cousins going to pick up their precious gramps and grandma from Vegas, and we run into hormone-boy's old lady."

"She's gonna mention it to my family. They'll figure everything out."

"What family? Your mum and dad are out at a party all night, like you said. By the time they get home, we'll be long gone."

Brynn cursed under her breath and crossed her arms. Turning back to him, she swallowed her pride and dropped the other shoe.

"So…what are you?" she ventured.

"The better question is what are _you_? I had to cover for your little blackout back there in the parking lot by saying you were a narcoleptic. Is that true?"

"What blackout?"

He raised an eyebrow. "You don't remember?"

"I remember you kidnapping me from Brad's car and turning into some kind of monster in the car. What was that?"

He chuckled. "That, love, is the whole reason why I got the short end of the stick. No one else was around to nick you."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean they made me come because I could and I would. No strings attached; all business-like. Come to Jersey, track you down, get you on the plane, all in one night and without a lot of trouble."

"And who told you to come get me?"

"The librarian up my bum."

She was confused, and he knew it. "You'll know in a couple of hours. Get some sleep." He leaned back and closed his eyes.

Half an hour passed, and his breathing became heavy and rhythmic. When Brynn was sure he was sleeping, she got up gingerly and put one leg over his lap. She was halfway across him to the aisle when his body twitched in its sleep and she lost her balance, falling on him and instantly waking him up.

He instinctively grabbed her arms and opened his eyes, looking directly into her frightened face. She blushed. He scowled.

"What are you doing?"

"Um…bathroom?"

"Bollox. You can't run anywhere around here. Just remember that."

"I know, I know. Thirty thousand feet up and all that."

He scootched over and allowed her to pass. She stumbled into the aisle, tripped, regained her footing, and went, embarrassed, to the vacant bathroom.


	5. Godspeed and Hallelujia

Brynn splashed water over her face and dried her skin. She looked in the small mirror and found unshed tears at the corners of her eyes. Quickly she wiped them away and straightened her dress.

She went back to her seat and found his empty. Shrugging it off, she sat down and asked the stewardess for a can of soda.

Receiving the drink, Brynn pulled down the tray and a piece of paper fluttered into her lap. Putting the drink down, she picked up the paper and began to read silently.

_Hello, Miss Marner._

Do not look around as you read this. Don't worry; we're looking out for you.

We know you are on this flight against your will. We are here to alleviate you from your captor's possession. If you desire a quick, painless escape, follow these directions to the mark.

We will land in Denver National Airport for a plane change. Contacting you at this time would be too risky. You are to remain with your captor during this time. He know we are following, so he will switch flights, taking you to an alternate flight headed not to Los Angeles as regularly planned, but to a little-known terminal known as Sunnydale Airport.

You will land in Sunnydale at approximately 2:15 AM Western Time, at which time you will insist to use the ladies' room to the left of your exit gate. We will rendezvous with you there.

Completely destroy this paper as soon as you memorize it. We cannot leave any trail and risk any rogue groups picking up on it.

Godspeed.

Brynn gasped. She was going to be saved! Hallelujah, praise the Lord!

Suddenly she saw the man's figure coming back down the aisle from the men's room. Thinking fast, she crammed the note in her shoe for safekeeping till she could throw it out.

"All right then?" he asked as he sat down.

She grinned and sighed. "Yeah, I guess so."

He gave her a weird look. "What's got you all in a tizzy?"

She shrugged. "Haven't been on a plane since I was three."

………………………

The plane landed a few hours later in Denver as the note had claimed. Spike led the way off the plane gruffly as he brought the pair through crowds of people.

"Hey, didn't that sign just say that was our gate?" the girl asked innocently.

"We're not taking that plane. Remember; we're headed to Sunnydale, not to Los Angeles. That's the _last_ place I want to go."

"Why?"

But he wouldn't answer as they came upon a deserted gate. "She didn't leave yet, did she?" Spike asked breathlessly of the employee.

"Not yet. You just made it," the woman said as she took their new tickets.

They rushed on and got comfortable in the small place. Spike practically collapsed in his seat as the girl got comfortable across the aisle.


	6. Kidnapped Again

They were in the air before Brynn remembered about disposing of the note. _To suspicious now, _she thought. _I'll just have to wait a bit longer._

An hour or so later, the plane began its descent and creaked to a halt at Sunnydale Airport. She and the man got off with a few other passengers, and as they passed the bathrooms, Brynn remembered.

"Hey, hold up for a minute. I gotta go…"

She ducked in before he could protest, not noticing the paper slip out of her shoe and fall to the floor.

She leaned against the sink, anxious to leave. Her adrenaline raced, and she felt an unwelcome headache coming on.

__

Damn migraines. They always felt like shocks of fire across her brain just before she apparently blacked out. Funny, she'd never remember fainting…

Suddenly a flowery-smelling cloth was clamped over her mouth and nose and she fought its grip before feeling herself begin to drift away into oblivion.

………………………

Spike leaned against the wall, looking at the clock. It would be light in about six hours, and he'd have to be back in his crypt by then. Home sweet spooky home.

Something white in his peripheral vision caught his eye. He looked down and noticed the piece of paper on the floor. He thought nothing of it until he recognized the style of script.

He picked it up and read it over with a sense of growing discomfort. By the time he was done, he was trembling with rage.

How could he have been so stupid?

Spike recognized the handwriting, all right. He new they sent the note. He just couldn't believe he let it slip through his fingers.

Disregarding the universal sign of "women" on the door, Spike kicked the swinging door open and looked at the expected sight with fury.

She had been kidnapped. Again.


	7. Angelus Defluo

"Bloody hell!" he cursed as he sped towards the Magic Box. Braking to a halt and leaving two unsightly skid marks outside the building, he got out, slammed the door, and pounded on the entrance.

"Giles, damn it, let me in!"

The door flew open and Giles, in his robe and fuzzy slippers, blinked through his glasses. "Yes? Spike, you're back! Where's the girl?"

"She was stolen in the girl's loo at Sunnydale International. I looked everywhere for the buggers, but they're gone."

Giles shook his head. "Yes, I told you to be careful for them. I knew they'd be tailing you. Well, come in. Everyone's here, but no one's awake."

Spike and Giles woke the Scoobies and were greeted by groans and yawns and one death threat from a certain ex-demon. The group propped themselves up and Giles began the questioning.

"So what happened, exactly?"

Spike told him as much as he knew. He had picked her up off the highway and while they were on the plane the following party slipped her a note and she assumed it came from the authorities.

"So they have her?" Giles asked for clarification.

"If they don't, then she pulled a mighty fine Houdini. But I checked the whole area, and her scent stopped where a toilet began."

"I see. Well, we have to find her. If they invoke the rites, if could mean a nasty bit of business."

"Another Armageddon?" Buffy sighed.

"Oh no, nothing like that. I mean a simple Reckoning. A Rapture."

"What do you mean?" Willow asked.

Giles began to clean his glasses. "The Society intercepted a message sent from a group called the Ascenders to the Vatican that they were searching for something called the 'angelus defluo'. I did some private research, and what they meant was a certain mythological being believed to be a…an…"

"An angel," Tara finished.

"I suppose so."

"An angel?" Xander interrupted. "How'd you swing that?"

"'Angelus defluo' translates from Latin to 'lost angel'. You see, Gabriel is an archangel in the Bible. He eventually assists in the _actual_ Armageddon; you know, the one with the Four Horsemen and all that.

"Well, it's believed in some branches of the faith that Gabriel came to earth and fell into sin, being cursed to remain in the flesh until God was ready for the Second Coming of Jesus. Then God would release Gabriel, who would regain his six wings, plus _another_ one to represent his reuniting with the Lord."

"A seven-winged angel. That's great and all, but how does it affect this girl?" Xander demanded.

"That's the thing. Every few years or so, she is reassigned as a foster child to a new family. Her memory is erased and replaced with another that coincides to today's time. She had an operation that would knock her out should she get too excited."

"So you're saying…"

"Right. This girl is the Lost Gabriel."

"So she's an angel? And the operation…"

"Is to prevent her from ever accidentally beginning the Rapture. Exactly." Giles replaced his glasses on his nose and sighed.

"So what would this group want from her? She's harmless with that chip in her head, like some _other_ people we know," Xander mentioned, looking in Spike's direction. The vampire sneered and looked back to Giles, who treated the little banter like a father would regard two sons. He simply continued.

"Yes, she _is_ harmless…with that chip in her head. I suppose they plan to take it out of her somehow. The Ascenders are a rogue occult group. They worship the Second Coming, hence their names. It's no surprise they'd want it as soon as possible. I just took it upon myself to keep them from it until we could hand her over to the Society for safekeeping.

"Which is why I sent Spike. I knew he could fight off those worshipers without asking questions that were not meant to be answered. No offense, Buffy, but I couldn't let you ask things that have been covered up for too long. You might have been abducted yourself by our agents for knowing too much."

"So instead of sending me, a perfectly good fighter who _wouldn't_ rip the head off something in my way without first asking if it was necessary…?" Buffy demanded.

Giles shrugged. "You needed to study for your classes."

Buffy sighed. "So where do we find the Ascenders?"

The librarian coughed. "Well…we don't know."

"Well, where would they get that thing out of her head? Maybe we can, you know, head them off at the pass," Xander suggested.

"Not a bad suggestion. Sunnydale ER?"

"I don't think they'd do it somewhere too obvious. I think it's time for the Scoobies to spread out and search for clues," Buffy stated.


	8. Conveniently Planted

Anya shivered. "Xander, I don't like it down here. It's dark, spooky-…"

"And slimy," he finished.

"Huh? I don't feel any slimy stuff."

Xander looked down and retched. "That's because you didn't just step in something. I hope that's only sewer sludge and not demon sh-…"

But at that moment, Anya let out a quick screech that Xander took up.

"SPIKE!" they both spat. The blonde had appeared out of the gloom like a ghost; his pale skin glowing in the darkness.

"Hey, crew. Listen, I'm rounding everyone up. You are _not_ gonna believe what I found. Come on."

………………………

"What's the deal, Spike?" Willow asked. The whole crew, minus Dawn who was at a friend's house, was congregated in an open, dry area of the sewers. Echoing drips sounded through the room, hinting that it was expansive in its dark recesses.

The vampire made a sound in his throat and lit his lighter. The group gasped as the tiny flame illuminated the rock wall beside them.

Intricate designs colored the walls in red streaks. Webs of finely drawn graphics surrounded by runes spilled from the wall to the floor and to the ceiling above. One specific design repeated over and over again at intervals. It resembled a transparently winged being raising its right hand to the sky, while holding in its left hand the hand of a shadowed figure.

"The 'angelus defluo'," Giles stated. "It's a symbol used before the Renaissance. Instead of the use of Jesus as a link to God, an angel with seven wings will lead the masses to Heaven."

"The Lost Gabriel," Tara whispered.

"Correct."

"So this is the Ascender's base?" Xander suggested.

"One would suppose so."

Spike suddenly tense up. Something had exhaled in the shadows, and he went for it. Sounds of a struggle ensued, and then a brown-robed figure was thrown into their midst with Spike close behind.

"Well, well, well. How convenient," he commented.

"Creepily convenient. How come they always leave someone behind so we can find them and pump them for info?" Xander mused.

"Xander, less musing, more pumping," Buffy demanded. She turned to the poor boy who was struggling to sit up on the floor. "Now where are they?"

"Who?" he asked innocently.

"You know damn well who!" Spike demanded, picking him up and pinning him against the wall at least a foot off the ground.

"Ah! With Loro! They took the Lost Gabriel to release her from her earthbound prison!"

"Who's Loro?"

"Underground surgeon. Deals with dangerous stuff, like demons' and vampires' organs. Industrial district; Baker Road."

Buffy raised an eyebrow. "How come you're telling us all this?"

But the boy was chanting something under his breath and all of a sudden he disappeared. Spike dropped his arms in disgust.

"The bugger was a plant. He probably just gave us a load of rot."

"Probably, but maybe not. Perhaps they'd think we'd figure he was lying, so we wouldn't believe him even if he did tell the truth."

"Makes sense. But who's Loro?"

"No time like the present to find out. Let's go."


	9. Last Minute Apocolypse

Buffy and Spike walked down the deserted sidewalk of Baker Road. It was silent at first, then Buffy gave a groan.

"It's just so stupid! She wouldn't have been kidnapped if it were me!"

Spike rolled his eyes and lit a cigarette. "Pet, if it had been you, that girl would have been disillusioned, raped, _and_ kidnapped before you even got her on the plane."

She stopped and put her hands on her hips, grasping a wooden stake tighter in her right fist. "Are you saying I couldn't have done a simple search-and-rescue mission in Jersey?"

"Right on, love," he commented, taking a long drag.

"I so _could_. I'd be totally focused. Nothing would have gotten by me. She'd be totally safe if I was doing the searching and the rescuing."

"Then what are you doing now?"

That shut her up for all of thirty seconds. "I…will not dignify that with an answer."

"Thought not. Well, while you're busy not answering me, I can smell her scent all over this door. So I think it's our best bet to try kicking it in, because it's rather locked," Spike observed.

Buffy pouted and raised her foot. With a crash, the door slammed open and they walked forward into the darkness.

………………………

Brynn sat, chained by her wrists to a gilded chair. She had long since given up struggling; her wrists were rubbed raw and her left hand was even bleeding a bit.

The huge room had been empty for more than an hour, with the only light illuminating it being the starlight spilling in. She remembered what had happened in the past hours with a sinking feeling in her stomach.

They had drugged her. As she had been slipping away, she saw her brown-robed captors open a grate in the bathroom floor and ease her down into an old service tunnel of the sewers. Everything was black after that, until she woke up in this room, locked to an expensive chair and dressed in white robes.

She had already taken the time to observe her surroundings. The room she was in was the size of a football field. The walls were painted in strange symbols, but one area to her right glimmered with fresh paint.

The picture described a human figure with another figure behind it pulling a knot of ugly-looking black tendrils out of the human's head. In the next picture was a seven-winged angel, the full moon behind it casting a shadow on the silhouetted celestial being. One legible words was scribbled beneath this last picture.

"Gabriel," she had read.

Now she looked up at the skylight directly above her. A small sliver of the full moon shone down on her face, and she judged it would be another few hours before the moon's arc would bring it right above her.

_It'll be so pretty…_ she thought, slipping back to sleep.

………………………

They were lost. That much was clear. Right after the entrance, the building's endless rooms and tunnels led them steadily down underground, into the labyrinth of passages below the streets of Sunnydale. Buffy eyed Spike, who kept sniffing at intervals to try and pick up the girl's scent.

"Are you sure you can still smell her?" she demanded.

"The nose knows, love. And patience is a virtue," he returned, leading them down a dark hallway.

"Well, we don't have much time to _be_ patient. She's been missing for a whole day. Remember what Giles said: they're gonna use her to bring on the Apocalypse."

"And how many of those have we stopped at the last minute? If I didn't know you better, Buffy, I'd say you were acting a bit off." He gave her a reproachful look and she sighed and leaned against the wall.

"I know, I know. I'm being a total nutcase over this. But it's just that…"

She groaned and sunk to her ankles. "I'm always worried that we'll get their too late, and it really _will_ be the end of the world. I mean…" Buffy stopped.

Spike walked over and picked her up. "You may be right. But until that happens, _we're still here_. We've got to do the best we can, and right now that means taking our time and making sure we don't miss the right hallway. So let's go."

She nodded and followed him.


	10. You Are The Archangel

Brynn shook herself awake. Something was different in the room. Something had changed.

She looked around and gasped. Someone had painted a new picture of the wall after the image of the moon and the angel. Now, the same seven-winged anger was seemingly locked in combat with a demon. The detail was incredible; Brynn could see the sheen of sweat on both creatures' skins, the glint of the monster's fangs.

She marveled at it for what seemed like ages, losing herself in the picture. The angel had its right hand out, an explosion of holy looking light emanating from its entire body and engulfing both it and the demon. But the creature had a grip on the angel's throat, crushing the seraphim's windpipe and drawing clear blood, which dripped down and was licked up by the monster's snakelike forked tongue.

A sudden noise startled her. She looked up to see that brown-robed people lined the walls. Hoods hid their faces, and they stood, wordlessly, facing her.

One figure detached itself from the masses and walked forward.

"Good evening and welcome, Gabriel," he spoke in a far off, foreign tone. "If you had been delayed anymore, we might have missed this blue moon."

Brynn gave a confused sound. "What?"

The man lowered his hood and smiled. Brynn gasped. "Mr. Levanstein?!"

He held up his hand. "Yes, Gabriel. My name is Michael Levanstein. My son was supposed to deliver you to us sooner, but he got other ideas. Trust him to answer he call of his hormones instead of the call of God.

"He lost the faith. But he's been handled."

Brynn eyed him worriedly. "What do you mean? What did you do to him?" He _was_ a jerk, but she didn't actually want him dead or anything like that!

Michael smiled that sick, sadistic grin again. "We delivered him into the hands of the Shadowed ones. God will have mercy on his soul, and we will see him soon enough.

"It was also quite lucky that my wife spotted you at the airport. We almost lost you to one of the followers of the Shadows. But that's all past now."

"What am I doing here? I mean, thanks for saving me and everything, but I kind of want to go home."

"Ah, and you will! And you will take us all with you! Back home, to the Kingdom of Heaven!"

Michael raised his arms in his rapture, revealing long red gashes bleeding at intervals on his forearms. Brynn winced at the sight, and he laughed.

"Yes, Gabriel. The stigmata of the Touch. I gave my blood as a sacrifice so you could be properly adorned for the occasion."

She gasped, disgusted. "You…you…!"

He chuckled again. "Yes, it was I who changed your clothes. But do not worry; you must remain pure for the procedure to work. I made sure you remained clean and uncorrupted by sins of the flesh all throughout your earthbound life, ever since the Council bound you in that pitiful human façade, down to threatening anyone who would want you as a romantic partner or elsewise."

His grin was deplorable, and she felt a wave on rage rise in her. This bastard had been keeping her from having a boyfriend? No _wonder_ no one ever asked her to a dance besides Brad!

"Such a beautiful disguise shouldn't be marred, should it, Gabriel?" he asked.

"Why do you keep calling me that?!" she demanded.

"Because you are the lost archangel Gabriel! Guardian of the moon and the Garden of Eden! Wielder of the flaming sword and God's own wrath!"

"No I'm not!"

There was a moment of silence, and then muffled whisperings began echoing in the room.

Michael turned around and spoke to them. "My children, my comrades, do not lose the faith or you shall be consumed by darkness! Did I not say the human half would retain no memory of its celestial existence? It _is_ Gabriel! Inside information from the London Society has led us to this ageless girl! There is no fault!"

"I'm not Gabriel! I'm Brynn Marner! I'm just a girl! Just a-…"

But all of a sudden, she felt someone grip her hair. They pulled her head back, silencing her screams.

"I am Loro, a brother of the Ascenders. But you are the archangel Gabriel. Prepare to regain your memory. I believe it will be quite liberating."

Suddenly she felt a tug at the back of her skull, and her brain erupted in pain. Angry shocks of electricity shot through her head, and she could feel something tangible slide through the back of her head.

Her eyes widened and her vision went blank. Suddenly she could see again and her sight was filled with the vision of a hand holding an ugly mass of black tendrils in silhouette against the white figure of the full moon.

She had almost gotten over the shock when her back began to split and sprout stubby appendages. As they grew, she lifted out of the chair and stood, still chained by the fetters. The appendages were arranged in a perfect heptagon on her upper back, and she could feel something prickly poking through them from the inside. Downy soft feathers began to caress her bare skin, and suddenly her view of the moon was blocked by seven wing tips stretching out and shading the night sky. The wind began to whisper, its song consisting of only one word.

"Gabriel".

………………………

Spike almost jumped. He had heard a scream from far off.

"What is it?" Buffy asked.

"Heard something. Be quiet a minute…" He put his ear to the wall and listened hard.

That did it. He could hear the girl screaming something about her name.

"I'm not Gabriel! I'm Brynn Marner! I'm just a girl! Just a-…"

Her voice stopped, and Spike pulled away from the wall.

"This is it, Slayer. Enough of this maze; we go through this wall."

"Through the wall? Alright, you better be sure."

In tandem, they both raised their boots and kicked.


	11. Couple Feathers More

The wall smashed through, and the dust cleared. Spike blinked.

The girl stood in front of a gilded chair, chained to its arms by her wrists. She was not dressed in white robes, and most surprisingly, seven huge white-feathered wings sprouted from her back and stretched skyward towards the full moon above.

"Jesus Chr-…" Spike started, but was cut off by the screams of robed bystanders.

"Intruders!"

"Seventy times seven can be forgiven! There are too many people! Too many!"

"They'll throw off the sacred number! More than four hundred and ninety people are in the room!"

A man rushed up to them and Buffy knocked him out.

"Is that our girl? She asked, pointing to the seven-winged being in the middle of the room.

"Yep. A couple feathers more than our girl, but it's her all the same," the blonde man returned.

They moved towards the golden chair, but stopped when the girl wrenched her hands up and broke the chains. She stretched out her right arm, and it began to glow with a white light.

The two remained motionless, transfixed with the growing light, when a crash echoed from behind them. They turned around to see the rest of the Scoobies spilling into the room, Giles tripping with the weight of a huge open book in his arms.

"Oh, good Lord!" he exclaimed when catching sight of the light.

"Giles, less ogling and more talking. How do we stop it?" Xander demanded, pulling free of the hypnotic glow.

The older man flipped through the volume frantically. "It doesn't say anything about stopping it. It just keeps repeating how pure the human has to be in order to release Gabriel. Nothing at all about halting the process!"

"So she has to be pure? Well there's no problem there. How pure can a teenager be?" Xander laughed.

Giles shook his head. "Pure of 'sins of the flesh', it says. The Society keeps close watch on things of this…er…_nature_. As much as I hate to say this, she is unfortunately clean."

"So let's _un_-clean her," Anya suggested. "And quick."

They all stared. "What?" she demanded. "I know how icky that sounded, but all I meant was that she needed a little good corruption."

More silence. Everyone was still staring at Anya, except one person. Buffy turned to touch Spike's shoulder. He stood taciturn, lost in the vision of the light of the archangel.

"Spike, are you ok?" she questioned.

He was completely zoned out. "I feel so weird inside. Like…I gotta do something. I have to…_attack_ her or something."

"Natural vampiric aversion to all that's holy, I suspect," Giles commented.

Spike ignored this and began to walk forward. "Gotta do something…" he whispered.

Something clicked in Giles' head and he nodded. "Yes! Buffy, let him go! This is in the book. Let him go!"

Buffy let go of Spike's arm and backed off. "What's he going to do?"

Giles looked to the girl with an air of understanding.. "He's going to corrupt an archangel."


	12. Corrupting Gabriel

Spike drifted closer. The Ascenders were too afraid to stop him, too consumed with the white fire blazing from the angel's arm.

He could see her eyes now. They had lost their irises and pupils, and were now a solid white, like twin moons in her face. Her robes waved in the heat of the purifying light. Her mouth was open; he could see the cords in her neck vibrating, but no sound emanated from her voice.

Her throat. It was so pale, so clean…

Spike put a foot in the circle of moonlight bathing her and the chair. Suddenly she dropped her gaze to him and reached out her left hand.

There was an uproar in the room and the hundreds of cloaked people rushed forward to take her hand. "Forgiveness!" Spike heard, or perhaps it was "Forgive us!". But either way, it was the balled pouring from every voice, every soul in the room. They all cried out, fighting one another for her touch.

But it was Spike who took two steps forward and grasped her palm. He reached out and took the pale hand that reached out, and moved closer.

Suddenly she lifted off the ground, levitating, floating just two or three inches from the concrete below. Her bare feet swung clear of the floor.

Spike gripped her hand tighter. She was going to fly away! She was going to leave him here, break the touch he found redeeming above all else.

_So this is what the touch of God feels like. Kind of nice…_he thought. It was like just holding her hand was forgiveness for all he had ever done wrong in the eyes of the Lord. If he would only come with her, he could finally die and be released; he could escape the Devil and see the real God.

She embraced him, and as a wave of comfort enveloped him he put his arms around her as well. This could last forever as far as he was concerned. He was vindicated, absolved, and all around pardoned! Ring the bells and strike up the choir, because Spike was faultless again. He had God's own forgiveness!

The only hitch was, he didn't want to _be_ forgiven.

Letting out a growl of the most earthbound fury, he vamped and dug his fangs down into her neck.

"No!" The cry rose up around him from the throat of every being in the room, including the Scoobies below.

"You can't kill her, Spike! Gabriel will be set free, and the sheer amount of holy energy will destroy earth!" Giles yelled up at him.

But the blood was already running. The liquid came in spurts of red and clear, and it spilled down his throat and all over his chin.

He looked down. She wasn't screaming. She wasn't making any sound at all. Tears were tracing their ways down her cheeks, and she looked up with sadness in her eyes.

_Can't kill her, then? Well…she's as good as dead anyway._

Suddenly he heard Dru's voice in his head, completely out of place and out of nowhere.

_Can't kill her, pretty Spike? Have to keep the angel in her…so do what only you can do. Keep that angel from its precious daylight. Let it stare at the stars from behind her pretty green eyes and weep tears of stars because it will never see its God again. You never believed in God anyway, Daddy._

He smirked to himself. _That's right. I don't believe in God anymore. So why not rob the deity of His precious seraph? _

Spike bit his tongue and pushed the bleeding tip into the wounds on her neck. She seemed so fragile, so about to shatter in his arms, so he couldn't force it too hard. But she tasted like something he remembered from long ago…from before he himself woke to the darkness. He struggled to remember…

He didn't notice the feathers of her wings changing color. Their roots turned black and slowly the color bled up into the shafts.

But he felt it when they began to fall off, dropping feather by feather to the floor below where they instantly decayed and faded into the floor, burning their shapes into the cement.

Soon, all seven wings were gone, and her blood stopped flowing. The wound closed up, and Spike felt her skin go cold.


	13. Meet Her Maker

The feathers fell, their ashes slowly blowing away. Soon the seven wings were gone, and all that was left to bear testament to their existence were the seven tears in the back of the girl's robes.

They wavered in midair, then began to sink unsteadily until they touched ground. Spike was so surprised at his reuniting with solid earth that he dropped the girl. She fell to the floor, motionless.

"Murderer!" the Ascenders cried. "False prophet! You've stolen the archangel! King of Demons!"

Spike smirked and licked his lips, surprised to find that the funny-tasting blood had already evaporated.

The Scoobies rushed forward, and Willow knelt down to cradle the girl's head in her lap.

"Oh Spike…what did you do?" she whispered.

Giles bent down and touched the brunette's skin. He winced when he felt the icy flesh, but jumped up instantly.

"What is it, G-man?" Xander inquired. Anya was digging her fingers into his lower arm, and he had to pry her off to regain circulation. "Anya?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"She _moved_…" Anya and Giles said together. The older man ran a sleeve over his glasses and blinked hard.

"No pulse…but she _moved_."

There was a shocked silence, then a sharp gasp all around as the girl's body twitched, then sat up and opened her eyes.

"Wh-…where…" she tried to speak. But she stopped and looked at herself. "So _numb_…I can't feel anything."

"Of course you can't. You're dead."

The cruel words came from Spike. He gave the group a cold stare, then turned away and left the room through the hole in the wall.

The girl's eyes were blank. "I'm…what?"

Willow touched her shoulder. "Well, you're not…_all_ dead. See, I'm sure he just didn't understand…and so he…" She looked in desperation to Tara, who shrugged hopelessly and turned to Giles.

The man began to clean his glasses. "Yes, well. While I don't support his decision, in retrospect it does seem like the only thing we could have done in any case."

"Whose decision?" she asked emotionlessly.

There was silence for a moment before Buffy exploded.

"Spike's. That stupid, _stupid_ vampire that just _turned_ you and left," she raged.

"What's your name?" Willow asked, trying to change the subject.

She looked into space. "I don't know. It doesn't seem that important, though. Like I never knew in the first place."

Willow looked again to Giles, who cleared his throat.

"That was probably in that nasty ball of programming we put in her brain that I see someone pulled out and tossed over there," he explained, going over to examine the tangled mass of black wiring.

"So you don't have a name? Well we would name you!" the redhead covered cheerily.

The girl shook her head. "They called me Gabriel."

"But that's a boy's name. What about-…"

"Gabrielle." She smiled a bit.

"That's good. Gabrielle's a very pretty name."

The newly dubbed Gabrielle stood up and stretched out her hand. The pads of her fingertips traced the painted image of the seven-winged angel silhouetted by the moon. She stared at it for a long time, till only Willow was standing nearby, protecting her from the departing Ascenders. When everyone was gone, the witch tapped Gabrielle on the shoulder.

"You…you think we should go now? It's going to be light soon…and we need to get you somewhere dark."

Gabrielle looked up through the skylight at the lightening sky. She nodded and followed Willow out of the room with a last look at a half-finished sketch of a creature with one feathered wing and one bat-like, leathery appendage…

………………………

Willow brought Gabrielle back to Buffy's house. The blonde opened the door and her face became as emotionless as stone.

"Oh no. That _thing_ is not staying here," was all she said.

"Well where's she going to go, Buffy?" Willow pleaded with her.

"I'll _tell_ you where," Buffy spat as she stepped outside and grabbed Gabrielle's robes.

"She's gonna meet her maker."


	14. Second Nature

Spike looked up from his half-empty bottle of Jack Daniel's. Someone was pounding on his door.

He debated doing one of two actions; he could ignore it and continue to get completely drunk which he was very close to already achieving, or he could actually get up and answer it. After all, it was so close to dawn, and the sun was rising fast. It wouldn't do to risk getting burned…

But the frenzied knocking continued, so he forced himself out of his chair, took a quick swig out of the glass bottle, and opened the heavy stone door.

"Buffy? What a surprise," he commented casually. "Can't go patrolling at this hour; you know what this light does to my skin."

She wasn't fazed. From behind her she pulled the girl, and his face fell.

"I believe _this_ is yours," she stated coldly. "Don't think you can just make another…_thing_ like you and dump her off on us."

"She's not your problem. No one asked you to-…"

"Yeah, well it's just turned into my problem when it should be yours. I don't get it! Don't you have paternal instincts or something?"

He took another drink and coughed. "Sorry, fresh out."

Buffy slammed her fist into his cheek, sending him back into the stone wall with a crash. The Jack Daniel's bottle shattered, spilling half its remaining contents on the ground and half on Spike.

While he was still reeling from the blow, she marched Gabrielle over to his sarcophagus. The slayer pushed the lid off, dropped the newborn vampire in it, and replaced the top.

"Sleep tight," she muttered as Spike stumbled up behind her with a bloody lip.

"Ow; what was that for?" he mumbled.

"For being a total jerk," she returned.

"Well it's bloody well not my fault!" he snarled, massaging his chin. "Giles told me too late not to kill her. So I did the only thing I could do. I changed her."

"That's _almost_ excusable. But abandoning her?"

"You're the Slayer. You could have staked her and then all your troubles would have been over."

"We _can't kill her_! You know that!"

"So what do you want me to do? Play the father like Ang-…" He stopped himself, disgusted, and looked away.

"Yes," Buffy sighed. "Just teach her what she needs to know. Like Angel did for you. You act like it's not a big deal, but it is. She's _dead_, and it's like she doesn't even know it. It's _your_ job to tell her."

"This isn't about that girl anymore, is it?"

Buffy balked. "Of…of _course_ it is! Who else would it be about?"

"Well let's face it, love. You haven't been too connected to life after coming back. Maybe it's time you let someone tell _you_ you're alive."

"Spike, I _am_ alive. I don't need you to tell me."

"Funny way of showing it."

"Look, this isn't about me!"

"Well, maybe it should be!"

They were locked in a stare-down, both glaring at the other and unwilling to back down. Finally Buffy sighed and turned around.

"I don't care what happens after you teach her. But you better, because if she burns up in the sun because you didn't tell her to hole up during the day, I'll put _you_ in a coffin and make sure you stay there."

Spike followed her to the door and slammed it behind her. He looked to the broken bottle of liquor and cursed.

"Bloody _women_!" he shouted after her.

He turned around and eyed the closed sarcophagus. He never slept in it, just on it, and he wondered what it felt like to be closed up in that tiny space, what it looked like to see the body in there, probably already slumbering peacefully. Was it second nature to their kind? Did they just crawl into this narrow box and drift away to sleep? Spike walked over gingerly and eased the lid back to see if she was still awake.

The problem was, she wasn't even in the coffin.

He remained frozen for a moment, then coughed. Then he began to look around for her.

_Damn, damn…the sun's coming up…gotta find her!_

He saw the trapdoor to his underground storage room and made for it. Yep, it smelled like her; that telltale vampire smell with the wisp of the unique scent he just couldn't place. Where had he smelled it before? When had he smelled it?

He threw the door up and descended into the darkness. Her scent was stronger down here, and he kept his eyes open for any movement.

Suddenly Spike tensed up. He had heard a tiny sigh, like an exhale only laced with tears.

Spinning around, he locked his eyes on a small alcove. He walked forward, slow and cautiously until he beheld the girl's slumbering figure.

She had already fallen asleep on an old mattress he had stored down her ages ago. A few ragged sheets were crumpled up down at her feet, covering her bare toes, but the rest of her was curled up in a mock method to preserve heat. It must have been a habitual move, because Spike knew she no longer had any body heat to speak of.

Unfortunately, she was also sleeping under a small grate in the ceiling, and a light beam of pale sunlight was already beginning to singe her upper arm. He could tell that if he left it alone, the sun's light would brighten and begin to scorch her face and entire arm.

Working quickly, he carefully tacked some black drop clothes over the grate. When no hint of sunlight streamed through, he collapsed with the night's exhaustion and was soon snoring slightly on the concrete ground next to the mattress.


	15. Smelled Like Water

He awoke the next night feeling strange. Something was different about the basement room. Something was missing.

_The girl_!

He stood up, feeling more and more uneasy. As he combed the cavernous space beneath his crypt, he felt a sudden unwelcome draft from the ladder leading upstairs. Climbing it, he laid eyes on the half-open door and his heart leapt into his throat.

Stumbling across the room, he threw the heavy door aside and saw, of all things, a pile of ash on the steps.

She had burnt.

In the middle of the day, she'd gotten up, walked by him and went outside in the blazing sun. He fell to his knees and touched the gray dust that lay in a pile beneath him. Torn, he unearthed a small charred white feather out of the ash and held it tight.

Oh, he was gonna get hell for this from Buffy. She'd never let him live it down. But somehow, this feather told him that it was all right. She was in her place now; even if it _was_ the underworld. And nothing bad had happened. The fact that the world wasn't gone told him that much.

He watched as a breeze scattered the dust across his "doorstep". Standing up, he realized the scent he couldn't remember was _water_. She had smelt of a gurgling brook on a summer dawn in the middle of the woods, with the beams of sunlight bathing the loamy ground in beauty. It had been a sight he'd only seen once or twice when he lived. It was a magic scene.

The night closed in around him and suddenly he couldn't tell where the ash ended and the dirt began. But the feather was still in his hand; the singed shaft that was half black and half white. He turned around and went back inside, grabbed his leather duster, and with the feather in hand went to talk to Buffy.


End file.
